The Old Ways
by NameNotRequired
Summary: Synette Montrose has a personal vendetta against all vampires. When an ancient and powerful blood-sucker curses her, she'll do just about anything to reverse it, even accepting help from another vampire. See profile for more infomation.
1. 1: Innocence

**A/N: Reviews are encouraged, any form of critic, praise or opinion is welcome, regarded and replied to as well as greatly appreciated.**

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><p><strong><span>The Old Ways: Thief of the Fox.<span>**

**Chapter One: Innocence.**

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><p>"<em>Death is a way of life. It follows forever after life, trailing behind, always lurking in the shadows. Its rotten stench choking those close enough with malice and hatred. Life is a joyful experience – the other side of the same coin. A period of time in which you play and laugh, dancing in the light until the darkness comes and drags you under, suffocating you in the black tar that is the Void. However, there is a state of life and death that co-exists. A mortal embodiment of two opposites that should have never occurred: un-death." ~ Unknown.<em>

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><p>Bright blue eyes narrowed into concentrated slits within the youthful face. Fire burned within and tickled the edges of her vision, turning the teal iris into white with the intensity of the heat that she commanded. Flames danced to her finger's will, bending to her thoughts – for a few moments, she was the fire. The crackling light struck her hair, turning it into fiery shades of ruby and scarlet, as a pair of eyes, deeper than the shades of the fire, watched her intently. The orbs belonged to an aged Dunmer, his fingers wrapped around his slim chin as he observed his seven year old pupil. She showed great promise for magical aptitude. "Enough." Veros Vilas' voice growled, his natural gruffness startling the child out of her spell. The young one's eyes returned once again to their innocent blue shading as they clashed with Veros' scarlet. "That is enough for today, you are showing great progress."<p>

The red haired child grinned broadly, her expression one of delight. Like any other child, she strove to impress those around her. Her head quickly turned from her mentor and towards her mother. She stood up and ran to her, clinging to her trouser-covered leg with the same pleased expression as a small squeal of happiness erupted from her mouth. "Did you hear that, mama?" she chirped excitedly, tugging on the fabric with which her tiny fingers were fisting. "Did you? Veros gave me a compliment!"

Her statement caused chuckling laughter throughout the encampment, the loudest coming from the child's father as he picked her up and swung her around, causing her to squeal. Veros himself huffed, querulous as always as his attention turned back towards the firepit. "That's my girl!" the large Nord boomed, his thick, rough fingers digging into his daughter's sides as he tickled her, causing yet more squealing. Her mother giggled watching her husband and child. "You show that grouchy Ashlander who's boss!"

The rest of the residents of the camp – set up around the outskirts of Northpoint, High Rock - laughed quietly amongst themselves as they went about their duties. Two Redguards - Thaik and Gwen - continued to construct tents while speaking to one another; their movements practised enough to not require their full attention. Ra'Virr sat a ways away; his powerful hind legs crossed as he carved the wood that Yvara Montrose had collected earlier, his black claws suited for the job as he flicked pieces into the fire that Veros Vilas was still tending. Varnis Sette, the only other Breton amongst the rag-tag group of hunters, was sharpening his axe as well as the rest of the weaponry for the group. Korst the Hunter was of course still throwing his daughter about. The last was an Imperial, stroking the head of a grey hunting wolf next to him as he sat, leaning heavily on a cane. Mecilvus Verus was an elderly man, the eldest within the group. As an ex-legionnaire he was not to be taken as lightly as his age suggested, emphasised by his hard-packed muscle.

Together, the group created a deadly force against what they hunted: vampires.

Synette Montrose, seven years old, wriggled out of her father's grasp and landed on the floor with a small, bouncy thud. Her bones were far too springy to gain any real damage from a short drop. She grinned and ran towards Mecilvus and Redmaw, patting the wolf before she lifted up her arms, gesturing for the Imperial to pick her up. His wrinkled face smiled and he easily sat her upon his lap, ruffling her red curls affectionately as her parents curled up together, not shy or bashful about showing their love for each other as they gazed at the stars, entwined around each other. Synette wrinkled her nose, letting out an amusing, "Eww!" at their actions before she turned around in Mecilvus' grasp and tugged on his lank grey hair to gain his attention. "Mecil? Are we hunting vampires tomorrow?"

The Imperial chuckled. His dark brown eyes and weathered face soft towards the sweet child as a smile graced his mouth. "Indeed." He rumbled. "Which means bedtime for you."

The child let out a loud wail of refusal. Her arms crossed over her front and her lips formed a pouting scowl. Mecilvus chuckled deeply and manoeuvred her to the comfortable crook of his arm where she yawned as he gently rocked her. "I'm not sleepy..." she spoke around her yawn, her eyelids falling.

"Of course you aren't, Synette." the Imperial rumbled softly. "You just stay right there and don't sleep, OK? Keep an old man company." his response was a tired nod from the teal-eyed child before she curled up against him, softly dozing. The rest of the encampment swiftly followed the example of the little mage, yawning before wisely turning in for the night, knowing they were safe. Redmaw would alert them to any trouble before it struck.

When morning came, the band of vampire-hunters swiftly rose. Synette, as always, was the first to rise with the sun, followed by her mother and the Khajiit Ra'virr. The last to rise were her father and Mecilvus. They travelled to their next destination, finding the drained corpses of the dead, left battered and broken, tossed away like mere trash along the way – clearly these vampires were brash and confident. The little mage's eyes narrowed and hardened with each body until she turned to her father, who's shoulder she was sitting on. "Papa? Why do vampires kill people?" her small voice questioned. The innocence of a child rung clear in her tone.

"Because Synette, they are monsters. And monsters always kill people. Never forget that." the child nodded with a soft murmur that she would never forget her father's words. As they found and entered Brittlestone Cave, Synette lost her innocence.

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><p><strong>Gah, the length of this is disgusting considering how long I have spent working on it. However, chapter lengths <strong>_**will **_**increase. Review if you wish for more and critique if you wish for more quicker. I work better with encouragement and critiques are my favourite thing to read. Due to my reviewers, the original first part of this story has been deleted. This prologue shall now become the first chapter.**


	2. 2: Scales of another Matter

**A/N: Reviews are encouraged, any form of critic, praise or opinion is welcome, regarded and replied to as well as greatly appreciated.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Scales of another Matter.<strong>

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><p>A hooded, cloaked figure emerged from the squalor and darkness of Fort Redman, the shadows clinging to her frame in a possessive manner. Her feminine figure was smeared with the ash of the fallen, a grim yet pleased expression on her hidden face. The morning sun shone down upon her body, pleasurable in its warmth from a night spent within the gloom and hawkish temperature of the Imperial-built monument, swarming with its once newest tenants having been abandoned decades ago by the very men that had built it. Pale rays caressed her scarred, tanned skin, her arms stretched out as if to embrace the burning ball of fire in the typically pallid, early morning blue sky of Sun's Dawn. The vampire-hunter's colourless eyes opened, unbothered by the scampering mudcrabs near her leather boots. With a sadistic grin she harshly kicked them aside for fun, delighting in their squeals of terror and pain. The half-Nord merely crushed their shells underneath her feet as she purposefully stomped her way out of the fort, her many silver daggers providing a comfortable weight around her broad hips as always, giving her a sense of comfort as her fingers idly played with the bulbous heads of the hilts.<p>

Leyawiin truly was a cesspit. Within a few minutes of her arrival Synette's ever-scowling face had twisted into utter loathing of everything and everyone around her. The incessant buzzing flies that fed upon the corpses of the dead – both those of flora and flesh - reminded her of the beggars in the cities; clinging to whatever useless desperate hope they had of feeding off your coin purse. She had quickly leftt he previous day, travelling to Ford Redman, in order to avoid a jail sentence for ridding the city of their disgusting infestation and found it just as detestable now as she did then. In terms of law a beggar was still by definition a person, and thus under the protection of the city's guardsmen and state unless proven guilty of some crime to fill their aching stomachs. Synette could have cared less. A beggar was filth and worthy of a quick death at the end of an executioners glaive.

The thought of death quickly brought a brighter mood to the usually dark, sombre woman, quickly followed by the thoughts of her next kill. Another mudcrab stood in her way just outside of the North East gate and yet another swift kick brought it quickly to its untimely end as its now-corpse flailed in death for a few short moments, skimming like a stone across the bog waters of the Lower Niben before stilling, floating, and becoming the meal of a hungry slaughterfish.

Dawn's light burned upon her back: a pleasing warmth that produced a hissing inside of her head that had become as natural to her as breathing and allowed her shoulders to relax somewhat. The weather for this part of the province was above average and Synette found herself wrinkling her slim, pointed nose at the mildly heated stench it produced. Still, it was better than the usual torrential downpour that turned everything into un-traversable sludge.

A guardsman stood between her and entrance to the city, his skin an off-colour from lack of sunlight with deeply set green eyes in the usual mud and vomit colour combination surcoat over his chainmail cuirass that designated his position within the community, the stallion shield around his weaker sword arm a symbol of his allegiance. "Halt!" Synette stopped, her feet coming to a squelching silence. "What is your business, traveller?" His question was one the vampire-hunter had heard before and one that she answered swiftly.

"I am a merchant, merely wishing to find a peaceful sleep at night and to sell my goods before continuing on. I will not be staying long," her lie rolled easily off of her venomous tongue, sugar-coated for the moment. Her movements produced a large sack upon her back filled with weaponry and other such items that would fetch her a pretty penny if she saw fit to sell it herself. More than likely, she would not. Synette held no interest in gold or anything of profit lest it be the dying scream of a vampire on the end of her daggers. However, the guard had no reason to know this.

Her reply was gifted with a nod of acceptance and the entrance she wanted. Leyawiin was not her choice of city, but Thorek had insisted on meeting her here within the Three Sisters Inn. His missive reached her via his usual method of sending his faithful hawk to find her. Synette did not know how the blasted thing managed to locate her whereabouts at any given time, but it seemed to greatly amuse Thorek when it did. The only reason that blasted pigeon wasn't dead was because of the same reason that it owner wasn't dead: they were both useful.

Leyawiin was as exactly she left it, damp with moss and fog, thick with the scent of disease even within the early hours of the morning. Small, stagnant pools of relatively clean water dotted the Lower Class areas of the city, more than likely collections of stale rainwater that greatly pleased the Argonian half of the population. Shacks were built among taller, far grander buildings situated within the centre of the town and around the Temple of Zenithar. The Castle was farthest east, the largest building and the only one other than the temple to be built of a material - again, work of the Imperials - that could stand testament to the Gods-awful weather that more often than not was miserable rain. One only had to look at the slime-covered hovels and the peeling, faded paint of the houses to realise that the people of Leyawiin cared little about their overall image. Synette found this to be their only admirable trait.

Only a sleepy few paid attention to the hooded hunter, something she was thankful for. Attention was not something she wanted. Her pale eyes scanned the wet and rotting signs of a few establishments before she came across one that was barely legible as _The Three Sisters Inn_. Without much grace she shoved open the doors, ignoring how the sleepy patrons jumped at such a loud noise. Khajiits were fairly easy to startle just as they were equally able to be feared and personally Synette found great delight in yanking their furry tails until they yelped in agony. There was only one person fully awake at this hour, a smirk upon his infuriating face as he leaned backwards on his chair, raising the legs as his own rested on the table. A cold bottle of ale was in his hand and he swigged the cheap brew as he swayed arrogantly. His muscled arms were open wide as if it was an invitation for a warm embrace or a mocking greeting. With this Nord it was hard to tell.

Synette scowled at him, stomping over as her own leg rose to kick his own off the table in one swift and practised movement. Her rough brown cloak opened to reveal the unarmoured but heavily armed woman beneath in a brief flash of fabric, leather and silver. "Thorek," she greeted in a growl, remaining standing as she threw a crumbled piece of parchment onto the table. His ice-blue eyes gazed at it for a moment before settling back on Synette, amusement glistening within as his slicked back black hair fell in front of his face attractively. His arms rested now on his chest, his coolly arrogant expression still in place despite how his feet were now planted solidly on the floor.

"What? No hug? I'm hurt, Synette, I truly am." The son of Riften stood and embraced the hunter warmly, squeezing her in an affectionate manner. The result of his hug ended with Synette kicking the back of his knee causing him to stumble, she took this opportunity to knock his balance of centre. His hulking frame landed back within his chair with a dull thump, the furniture creaking yet easily handling his weight. At over six feet tall and packed hard with muscle he both towered over and outweighed the half-Nord who merely tipped the scales at over five feet and was lighter than one would have expected from her larger than average frame. A chuckle was drawn out of him as Synette sat on his lap, straddling him, to make sure he didn't get back up. Even if the Nord was a thief, he was more of an information collector, a listener. His size made it nearly impossible for him to be skilled at sneaking. His abilities lay within the realm of reading and writing and Illusion. He couldn't have possibly hoped to stop Synette even if he wished to.

"The day I give you a hug is the day I spit rainbows, filth," her insult caused Thorek to chuckle softly once again, his hands holding her hips to make sure she did not slide off his thick thighs. He did not miss the warning glare in her achromatic eyes as his hands stilled on her clothing, a sly grin forming upon his rugged face. Synette might have been a harsh hunter, colder than the month of Morning Star in Solitude, but she had her more carnal needs like everyone else and had shared her bed with him more than once. Her sensitive hips were not new news to him. "Try it and I'll have great fun dismembering your head from your shoulders. I didn't come here simply because you wished to drag me into bed."

Thorek merely chuckled once again. From this angle he could see her shrouded face and lightly tipped it upwards, looking amused as he grasped her hood as if attempting to pull it downwards. "You'd look much prettier without this, you know." Without her thick brown cloak Synette was a rather pretty woman without her constant scowl. It was a wonder her skin was as tanned as it was for he had never witnessed her removing the rough fabric when outside in the sunlight. Then again, she would never show any kind of weakness – including a love of the sun – to anyone, nevermind himself.

The hunter snarled and gripped his hand away with almost enough strength to shatter the bones within his palm, the only reason she did not was because it would cost her gold to heal him and his whining would have got on her nerves. "Funny, I thought your ears actually fucking worked. I said, _don't try it_."

"You merely said that about your hips, you said nothing about anything else," his look was sly and devilish, an expression of mischief. "Besides, I've _missed _you." His hold on her body tightened somewhat, producing yet another snarl before the thief wisely let her go. Synette did not remove herself from her perch once freed and instead grabbed the piece of parchment she had thrown onto table, shoving it underneath Thorek's nose.

"This is why you called me here," her movements ensured that the stench of ash and dead fire assaulted the thief's nostrils as she crinkled the musty paper with her fingers. Any other day smoke would be seen curling around the edges. The note only contained a few instructions. _Information collected. Come to Leyawiin, I'll meet you there._ "Explain. Now."

Turning his head from the smell Thorek pushed her hand gently downwards before turning to face her again. "Very well. It seems that the piece of jewellery you and I spoke of a while back does indeed exist, it isn't just a rumour," something positive flashed within the vampire-hunter's expression, the closest thing to happiness or hope she would allow herself to feel. "However, like with everything, there is a tiny, tiny bit of a problem..."

Immediately, Synette's expression changed into one he knew better: irritation. "What?" her growl bared her sharp teeth, a glint underneath her hood that only increased as a flash of fear caused Thorek's body to tremble. The curse placed upon her as a child still ravaged her body and mind and he would be wise not to tempt it with his own instinctual reaction to her whenever the vampire-hunter became angered. The thief's scent of fear caused a carnal grin to spread across her face, the constant hissing inside of her head morphing into a sickening purr until Synette's iron-cast hold over her own control slipped back into place, ridding herself of the grin and the purr. The hissing was much safer unless it was herself making the noise. With a minor shake of her head, the vampire-hunter growled yet again, demanding an answer.

Thorek at least had the grace to look sheepish. His large hand rose and nervously scratched the back of his oiled head before his expression became serious. "The missive I sent you was because I had a feeling it would be better for me to tell you face-to-face rather than let you hunt me down and melt off my face," he cast the hunter an amused glance that she did not return, merely stared at him with her eerily dead, colourless eyes. He sighed and continued. "I did what you asked me to, I researched all of the legends and tales that might have helped with your... condition... and after a while I came across a story. It – put quite simply because I know you hate it when I ramble – tells of an amulet that can dull the effects. It won't cure you, but it might at least help you with... Him... until I can find something better."

"Where?" Synette's reaction was one he expected and he shifted a little to pull out a map. He spread it across the table and pointed towards an island just off the coast of the Topal Bay.

"Now, you know me, I always do my job well. I tracked down where the amulet is now. The descendant of an Argonian thief is in possession of it now. A hermit, likes to live alone on this island," his finger tapped the location on the map and the hunter's eyes narrowed upon it. "It'll take a boat to get there, but if we-Hey where are you going?"

Synette had stood, her booted feet stomping across the hardwood flooring of the inn making enough noise to awaken the sleepy inhabitants yet again. Her swift movements ensured that she was half-way across the room before Thorek had called out to her. Out of a mutual tolerance of his presence she stopped and turned her head towards him. "To get my fucking amulet, what else? You don't live with what I do, filth. Try it and see how much fucking patience you have when a way out, even if it is just a temporary one, is dangled in front of your face." He would follow, she knew he would. The thief was a soft touch at heart and felt sorry for her. She had his pity within the palm of her hand and for once she would not burn all that touched her. Perhaps in a strange, twisted way, she enjoyed having someone care for her, even if it was only pity. Synette could only take what came her way and allowed the large, pure Nord to follow after he whistled for his hawk, Sjofn, to join him from the rafters of the establishment. With an arrogant flick of her head, the hunter stomped out of the door, Thorek trailing after her.

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><p>Mere minutes later, the thief and the hunter were running alongside each other, Synette upon her own two feet and Thorek upon his blonde Skyrim mare, Froseti. The large yet gentle creature had become accustomed to the darkness that spilled and pulsed from the twenty-nine year old woman, both in terms of magic and scent, and thus remained calm in her presence unlike the other animals upon the road, who whimpered in terror before fleeing, clearly not taking the risk. Synette's sellable items had been left within Thorek's room, he may have been a thief but he was not stupid enough to steal from her despite how she would more than likely allow him the spoils of her trade. She had no use for them; she had her daggers and the clothes upon her back along with the satisfaction of killing the same bastard breed that cursed her in the first place. Gold was something that was both foreign and unwanted in its concept.<p>

Sjofn flew along at the same speed that Synette and Froseti ran; Thorek keeping up only because of his horse - his bulky frame could never hope to move as swiftly as the half-Nord. Topal Bay was within their sights and the hunter did not stop despite the water in her way. A quick Water Walking spell ensured that she did not have to slow down despite how Thorek stopped. His ice-blue eyes gazed at her form as she ran and sighed. Another would die by her hand today, of that he was certain.

The vampire-hunter never broke her stride except to stop upon her arrival. A single large tree was stood upon the middle of the island, the high noon sun beating down upon the grizzled, aged bark and the twisted reeds below that formed a small hovel in between the roots of the topiary. It – like mostly everything within this region – was wet. Synette growled under her breath, her fire spells would not work against wet bark. Again, she began to move, this time inside of the hovel. She broke open the door with a swift kick and was not surprised when she entered that no one was home. A snort left her. The Argonian was probably swimming; after all, his reptilian race loved the water and what sane bog-dweller was not going to swim at high-noon, when the day was actually pleasant?

Swiftly the half-Nord rifled through his possessions, searching for her amulet and taking no care towards the items that did not belong to her. Her movements were bordering on desperate; no one apart from Thorek could possibly hope to understand how much she needed this jewellery. No one, as far as she knew, had ever had her curse before. She was unique and hate was not a strong enough word to represent how much she loathed herself. She craved to be a normal woman, the kind she was before that fateful day near Northpoint in the vampire's den. Of course, she knew of the advantages of her curse: increased strength, increased speed, a heightened sense of smell, of hearing... For once however she would like to not be able to smell the distaste of others when she entered a room, she would like to be in complete control over her own body and not fear each passing year.

By the time the Argonian hermit returned to his home, Synette had already destroyed everything. His reptilian eyes looked around in shock before they landed on the woman responsible. Before he could utter a word she pounced, her movements ensured that her hand was wrapped tightly around his scaled neck as she lifted him off of his feet. Immediately his clawed hands dug into her flesh, tearing at her arm in a vain attempt for her to let him go. She easily ignored the pain as her blood dribbled far slower than any average mortals onto the floor and squeezed until his rasping breath became hoarse and pained. "Where. Is. The amulet?" she hissed, shaking his quickly growing limp body. She eased some of the pressure around his throat to allow him to answer.

The lizard gasped for breath, "Amu...let?" his answer caused Synette to snarl and shake him violently, pulling his body closer to hers, letting him see her face. After all, he would be dead soon, it wouldn't matter if he saw her.

"The amulet your bastard ancestor stole and passed down through your family, the one you now own, the one that dulls the effect of vampirism! Where is it?" her voice had grown into a desperate scream by the time she had finished talking, her shaking only growing more violent as a manic laugh caused her head to pound insistently. _Vonaril! _the laughing only grew until the scent of pure fear began to roll from the body of the Argonian like a thick tasty broth teasing a hungry beggar. The swamp-dweller caught a flash of red from underneath this terrifying woman's hood and spoke.

"Stolen!" he rasped quickly, trying to spare his own life. "The amulet was stolen! A few weeks ago I came home and it was gone!"

"Where is it?" Synette shrieked, flames leaping from her hands and scorching the scales of the lizard. He screamed in both shock and pain and again there was a flash of red from underneath the half-Nords hood, her dead eyes alive with blood-lust as the colourless orbs flashed a deadly scarlet.

"I don't know!"

The hunter snapped his neck. The scent of death began to reach her nose and allowed her to calm herself as the lizard's body hung limp in her grasp, but the flames did not stop. They licked hungrily at the corpse, eating away at the scales and still juicy flesh underneath, turning everything into ash. Synette watched dispassionately, feeding the fire with her magic until a pile of Argonian slag remained. She had even burnt his bones. The laughing inside of her head had died, replaced with a feral hunger and a hiss she knew far too well.

She turned and pulled her hood up over her head, tugging it until it covered all of the top half of her face. Casting her enchantment for Water Walking she ran back to Thorek. The man barely had time to prepare himself for Synette as she dragged him off Froseti, causing the mare to rear up on her back legs in shock, and pulled him into the grudge of the shoreline, dirtying his fur-robe. "You!" she hissed, "Where would a thief go to sell his wares in this Province?"

Thorek merely stared at the hunter for a few moments before his jaw began to formulate an answer. "T-the Imperial City would be your best bet, but that isn't always the case-Now where are you going?" The woman had leaped off of him and was walking away.

"To get my amulet. The Argonian is dead, and soon a thief shall follow him."

The Nord watched her go and knew that to follow her would mean he would be added to the list of her dead. He sighed and pulled himself up out of the mud, ignoring the way the cold water was running in an uncomfortable river down his back and neck. He quickly moved to sooth Froseti, Sjofn landing on his shoulder and cawing softly. He stroked both of them and lifted himself up into his mare's saddle. Synette would not be satisfied with that amulet for long; she would seek a cure until He was gone. With another sigh, he gently clicked his tongue and urged the horse to move as he watched the vampire-hunter's frame disappear. Whatever man had that amulet now, he prayed a swift death for.

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><p><strong>Yes, it has been a while since I updated. Life forever gets in the way of my writing, however I have updated as swiftly as possible. I wish to thank all of you for reviewing. Twelve reviews for my first chapter was a much higher number than I was expecting, and thus I thank you all. I know very well that I shall notis it very unlikely for me to recieve that many reviews again. However, I am still going to urge you to do it. With each review, I am urged to write quicker. Thank you.**


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